


In These Arms, Part III: Walking Shadows

by mrpicard



Series: Star Trek: TNG - In These Arms [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Gore, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrpicard/pseuds/mrpicard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise faces an undead threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_"Captain's log, supplemental. We have met with the USS Grimes after intercepting its automated distress call. Unfortunately, there are no life signs aboard and the computer appears to be functioning on a minimal level – only life support, emergency lights and artificial gravity are working. I have sent Commander Burke and two of his security team members to conduct a preliminary investigation."_

 

 

The three officers who were walking down the semi-dark corridor were each equipped with a phaser rifle and a tricorder- and a _very_ uneasy feeling.

"What the hell happened here?" Ensign Giles Taylor asked, breaking the silence.  
  
"I wish I knew," Burke replied grimly and looked once more at the walls of the corridor that were stained with red and green blood. "Anything on your tricorder, Lieutenant?"

"Negative," Tara McNeill replied. "It's like as if the blood isn't even here. How can that be?"

A low beep sounded and Taylor, who was walking in front, glanced at the tricorder on his belt. "Hold on - I'm registering something."

"What is it?" Burke asked.

"A large amount of burned matter at the end of this corridor."  
  
"McNeill, what's down there?" Burke asked.  
  
The lieutenant typed a few commands into the tricorder on her belt and brought up a small holographic projection of the corridor in which they were standing. "The cargo bay, sir."  
  
"Alright." Burke raised his phaser rifle even higher. "Let's go."

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Taylor stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
"Giles, dammit!" McNeill hissed from right behind him. "Why did you stop? I almost bumped into you!"  
  
Taylor simply raised his hand and pointed at two words that had been written on the cargo bay door in something that looked very much like red blood.  
  
' ** _FORGIVE ME_** '

McNeill gaped at it for a few seconds and then turned towards Burke, who had also stopped walking. "Sir..."

"I see it, Lieutenant. Let's focus on the task at hand, alright?" Burke took another step towards the door. "Locked. Taylor, can you open it manually?"

"I'll see what I can do." Taylor put away his tricorder, walked up to the panel on the wall next to the door, took off the cover and reached inside.  
  
The door opened a few centimeters.

Taylor pulled back his hand. "Sorry, sir. That's the best I can give you."  
  
"It'll do, Ensign. Thanks." Burke put away his tricorder as well. "I'll go first."

He slowly squeezed himself through the small gap – and froze in complete and utter horror at the sight that greeted him, just like McNeill and Taylor did when they came through a few seconds after him.

In front of them was a huge pile of burned bodies, so high that it almost reached the ceiling. The stench that came from it was unbearable – in fact, some of the bodies were _still_ smoking.  
  
"Oh my God," McNeill whispered.  
  
"Taylor... how many...?" Burke asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

The young ensign pulled his tricorder back out and activated it, happy that he had something other to do than looking at burned bodies. "It's hard to tell, sir... but judging from the mere size of the pile I would say that this used to be the vast majority of the crew."

Burke cautiously walked up to the pile of bodies. He hated what he had to do now – examine more closely – but it could not be helped, the captain would no doubt want a _very_ detailed report. He slowly began to circle the pile until something caught his eye.  
  
"Taylor? McNeill? I think I found something."

McNeill and Taylor looked at each other – neither of them wanted to be any closer to the bodies than necessary, but there was no other choice now that their commanding officer had called them. They slowly walked up to him, both fighting the urge to vomit.  
  
"What is it, sir?" McNeill croaked when they had reached him.  
  
Burke pointed at a blackened skull. "Look at the teeth."

"Wha-what about them?" Taylor asked, his face slowly turning green from both the sight and the stench.  
  
"They're a mess, and I don't think the fire is the reason for that," Burke replied. "Besides, some are even missing." He rubbed his chin. “What's even more interesting is that I can tell from the shape of the skull that this guy was a Vulcan."  
  
"A _Vulcan_ Starfleet officer with disordered and missing teeth?" McNeill exclaimed. "That sounds impossible."

"Exactly." Burke activated his tricorder, walked on and continued his gruesome survey while Taylor and McNeill remained behind, both staring at the skull.  
  
"There has to be a rational explanation for all this," Taylor muttered, reached out his hand and touched the teeth.  
  
"Giles, do-"  
  
"Ow!" Taylor quickly pulled back his hand. "These teeth are like razors!"

"Oh for crying out loud, Giles!"  
  
"Calm down, Tara. It's just a scratch." Taylor wiped his finger on his uniform. "I'll be fi-"  
  
"Over here!" Burke suddenly called out from the other side of the pile.

Taylor and McNeill quickly walked around the pile and found the chief of security standing in a darker corner of the cargo bay, his tricorder raised at a figure that was sitting there, leaning against the wall. Upon coming closer the two young officers saw that it was actually a man in a dirty, torn Starfleet uniform. Right next to him on the floor was an old-fashioned pistol.  
  
Burke slowly reached out his hand and pulled up the man's head.

"Oh my God," McNeill whispered when she saw the gaping dark red hole and the dried blood around it.  
  
"Did... did he do that to himself?" Taylor croaked.  
  
"Judging from the angle of the hole and the position of the pistol on the floor, I'd say yes," Burke mused and let go of the man's head. "Look at his hands."  
  
"They're black," Taylor observed.  
  
"Which means that he probably dragged some of the bodies around," McNeill concluded.  
  
"You mean he killed them all?" Taylor whispered, horrified.  
  
"I'm generally not someone who enjoys jumping to quick conclusions, but it _would_ make sense, especially when you consider the words on the door," Burke replied.  
  
"That's insane!" Taylor exclaimed. "Why would a Starfleet officer do all this?"  
  
"He was not just an officer," Burke said. "Look at his collar."  
  
Taylor and McNeill did so – and their horror increased even more when they realized that the man had been the _captain_ of the ship.

 

**********

 

"How did you two manage to keep it a secret for so long?" Mordock asked and took a sip from his ale.  
  
Alex sighed inwardly. Granted, Mordock wasn't the first to ask this particular question, in fact, ever since he and Picard had shared that brief kiss in front of everyone in Eleven Forward a few days ago there hadn't been even one single customer who hadn't either asked directly or looked at him in _that_ way, but still.  
  
"We were just careful, that's all. Can we change the subject now, please?"

"I just don't think it's fair," Mordock observed.  
  
"Fair?"  
  
" _You_ know everything about _us_ , your customers, and I for one think it's natural that _we_ want to know things about _you_ , too."  
  
"That's fine, but my relationship with the captain is _no_ one's business," Alex said stubbornly.

 "Oh come on," Mordock complained. "I'm not asking about how often you two engage in human mating rituals. I'm just curious as to how you managed to remain undetected as a couple."  
  
"It helped that we didn't exactly walk through the hallways holding hands," Alex replied. "And, before you ask, no, we won't do that _now_ either."  
  
"You know, you really are made for one another - you're both obsessed with that human concept called privacy," Mordock sighed and took another sip from his ale. "Despite all this, I _do_ realize that it must be quite annoying to have all those people being so nosy right now. It might help you to remember that you humans have a limited attention span when it comes to what you call 'ship's gossip'."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you the way I did."  
  
"That's alright. I wasn't offended."  
  
Alex sighed. "Actually, I'm kinda worried about the consequences this whole thing might bring for my job.”  
  
"In what way?"

"Well, you guys talk to me about all sorts of things, including those that concern ship's business. I guess I'm just a little concerned that no one's going to tell me anything anymore because they'll be afraid I'll take it straight to the captain."  
  
"I disagree. From what I've heard – and that is a lot, you know how eager we Benzites are to engage in conversation - the crew is simply happy for the two of you. I don't think anyone's going to assume that you'll betray their confidence. You're a very secretive bartender, people know that what they tell you doesn't end up anywhere else. And I don't think they'll change their minds now just because you're in a romantic relationship with the captain. And really, there are -"  
  
" _Madden to Mordock. Please report to the Observation Lounge._ "  
  
Mordock tapped his communicator. "Acknowledged, Commander. I'm on my way." He stood up from his chair. "I have to go. Don't let anyone near my ale."  
  
Alex smiled. "I won't, don't worry."

 

**********

 

"We have no idea why Captain Dixon did what he did – all we know is that it really _was_ him who burned all these bodies," Burke said, his face still pale from the experience that he and his two security officers had just had aboard the Grimes.  
  
"I knew Captain Dixon," Madden chimed in. "He would never have done something like that, at least not voluntarily."  
  
"What about the ship's computer, Mr. LaForge?" Picard asked.  
  
"We can't even establish a link, Captain. We're working on it, but it looks like as if most of the computer core data has been erased."

"Doctor, what have you found out so far?"  
  
"The autopsy of Captain Dixon's body revealed nothing unusual, except for a slight anomaly in his blood cells.  It looks like as if it could be some kind of virus, but I'm not certain yet."  
  
"A virus?" Picard echoed. "The away team –"

"Don't worry - the transporter's biofilter did not show anything unusual, and neither did the blood tests that I took," Pulaski said. "I need to analyze this further, along with the scan results of the bodies that Commander Burke brought."

"Keep at it," Picard urged. "We need to know what happened aboard that ship as quickly as possible."  
  
"At least we're sure there wasn't any alien influence," Madden remarked. "Whatever happened, it must've come from the crew itself, or rather, from the captain, as hard as I find that to believe."  
  
"I agree," Picard said. "I can't even begin to imagine why a captain would kill his own crew in this gruesome manner."

"I'm not sure he _did_ ," Burke chimed in. "I mean he was one man against what, 400 people? He couldn't have killed them all. It was a _massacre_ over there. One man could not have done that alone."  
  
"Also, the 'FORGIVE ME' part," Madden added. "Why would he kill everyone in cold blood and then ask for forgiveness?"  
  
"A lot of people have been known to ask for forgiveness after having committed a horrible crime," Mordock said. "No offense, Commander, but it _would_ be consistent with human behavior under extreme stress."

 "Alright." Picard stood up and tugged his uniform shirt into place. "We need facts, not speculation. We will remain in the area for now until you're finished with your analysis, Doctor. No one is to beam over to the Grimes unless explicitly ordered to do so by either myself or Commander Madden. If there is indeed a virus at work here, the risk of contamination must be kept at an absolute minimum." He nodded at his officers. "Dismissed."


	3. Chapter 3

 

Ensign Giles Taylor was sitting at his desk, once more going over his report for Commander Burke that he had just finished. He was not only reading, however - he was also scratching his hand that, for some reason, had begun to itch.  
  
He was just about to correct a typo that he had spotted (he did not believe in the PADD's autocorrect function) when his hand began to twitch so hard that he actually dropped the PADD that he had been holding.  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
Suddenly, the pain came - and such an intense rush of it that all Taylor could manage was a muffled scream before he dropped to the floor, unconscious.  
  
The skin around the little flesh wound the dead Vulcan officer's teeth had left on his hand was beginning to gray.

 

***********

 

"Giles? Giles!"

Nothing.

McNeill pushed the door chime button again. "Giles? Have you overslept again? Come on, I know you're in there!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
She sighed, for a moment unsure as to what to do – wait for her friend to wake up or try to override the door's safeties and get him out of bed _before_ Commander Burke realized that Ensign Taylor was late with his report?

To hell with it.

"Computer, override the lock on Ensign Taylor's door, security authorization McNeill Sierra Tango Four."  
  
The computer acknowledged with a short beep, the door slid open and McNeill stepped into a dark room whose only source of light was the old-fashioned desk lamp that Taylor's grandmother had given it to him as a birthday present a few weeks ago. McNeill knew that it had been in the Taylor family for generations and that the young ensign was insanely protective of it – which meant that he would never have kept it on during the night.

Something was _very_ wrong.

"Giles?" McNeill asked cautiously, all her senses on alert.

She slowly moved towards the desk where she knew Taylor kept his phaser, cursing herself for walking into his quarters unarmed in the first place.  
  
She had just raised her hand in order to tap her communicator and ask for reinforcements when a dark figure slammed into her from the left, tackling her down to the floor. Before she could even _try_ to fight off whatever the thing was, sharp teeth had dug into the soft flesh of her throat. The pain was unbearable and she screamed in utter agony as the teeth began to tear at the tender flesh of her neck until, with a horrible sound, a large piece of flesh was ripped from it.

The screaming stopped.

 

***********

 

Pulaski rubbed her tired eyes and took a deep breath. So far her research indicated that they were indeed dealing with a virus of some kind, highly adaptable and always fatal. However, it did not end at being fatal – it killed, yes, but shortly after that it seemed to be able to _reanimate_ a person. It was downright impossible, and yet the scientific evidence was right in front of her. The only positive thing was that the virus was not airborne, in order to contract it there _had_ to be physical contact of some kind.  
  
Like, a bite.  
  
"It's basically a zombie virus," Pulaski muttered and even while she was saying it, the idea sounded beyond ridiculous. After all, there were no such things as zombies in the world of science - a person was either alive or dead, and those _very_ few cases that left room for at least _some_ interpretation did not walk around and bite other people.  
  
And yet it appeared that this was _exactly_ what had happened aboard the Grimes.  
  
Pulaski stood up, walked over to Captain Dixon's body and examined it again. If her theory was correct, there had to be a scratch of some kind or a small flesh wound. He had not yet succumbed to the virus when he had shot himself in the head, but he had no doubt been aware of it, and also of the only way to stop it – an old-fashioned bullet, fired right into an affected person's brain. Pulaski took her tricorder, activated it, set it to its highest scanning precision and then slowly began to run it over Dixon's body. She did not have to look very long – the instrument began to beep rapidly when she ran it over the dead man's left leg. She examined his uniform pants and then she saw it: A small hole and a little scratch in the otherwise intact skin beneath.  
  
She tapped her communicator. "Pulaski to Picard."  
  
" _Picard here_."  
  
"Captain, I –"  
  
" _Just a moment, Doctor – what is it, Mr. Burke?_ "  
  
" _There are reports coming in about a strange figure staggering through the hallways, sir. They're saying it looks like Ensign Taylor... and that he **bit** someone…?!_ "  
  
Pulaski suddenly felt an invisible icy hand grabbing her throat.  
  
The virus.  
  
It was here.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Picard marched into sickbay. "Report."  
  
Pulaski looked up from her tricorder, as did Commander Burke, who was standing next to her. "Would you like the short or the long version, Captain?"  
  
"The _good_ one, Doctor."  
  
She put away the tricorder. "So far I can only tell you that what we're dealing with is definitely some kind of particularly vicious virus. Since Ensign Taylor over there, part of the away team, seems to be patient zero, I would estimate that its origins lie aboard the Grimes." She raised her hand. "Before you ask, no, I don't know yet how it managed to fool the transporter's biofilters."  
  
"That isn't much to go on," Picard remarked.

"And there's even more bad news, sir," Burke chimed in. "Lieutenant McNeill is missing. Her communicator was found in Ensign Taylor's quarters, along with a large piece of her uniform. The computer claims she isn't aboard, which is probably actually true since she's most likely dead - at least in a way."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Pulaski sighed. "There's no easy way to say this... but, basically, she's dead but also walking around, driven by only one basic instinct: To eat flesh."  
  
"Are you saying that she and Ensign Taylor are zombies?"  
  
"That would be an accurate analogy, yes."  
  
Picard frowned. "There are no such things as zombies, Doctor."  
  
"I knew you'd say that, Captain. But please, explain _this_ to me."  
  
She walked up to a nearby curtain and pulled it back, revealing a biobed on which Ensign Taylor was lying, restrained by a force field. His skin was gray, the flesh around his teeth was beginning to decay and there was dried blood all over his neck and shoulders. He stared at the officers for a few seconds - and then he began to hiss and struggle against the force field, eager to get up and reach them.  
  
"Oh my God." Picard stared at the young ensign in utter horror. "What happened? Can you help him?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet. I can't even take proper scans, my medical instruments are useless since they all claim he's dead. The same thing happens with the sensors."  
  
"He's got a head injury," Picard observed.

"The security team who brought him in had to slam a piece from a Jefferies Tube ladder over his head to make him stumble and fall so that they could grab him," Burke said. "Phasers had no effect, not even when set to kill. It's logical in a way – he's dead already."  
  
"And Lieutenant McNeill is still at large, looking like he does? And sensors are unable to track her and phasers are useless?"  
  
"That's the basic story, yes."  
  
Picard briefly closed his eyes. "Wonderful."  
  
Pulaski pointed at the lifeless form of Captain Dixon on another biobed. "He was infected, too – and yet _he_ didn't wake up after he died. I think he shot himself in the head to prevent exactly that from happening."  
  
"Are you suggesting that we shoot infected crewmembers in the head with an old-fashioned projectile weapon?" Picard exclaimed, horrified.

"We might have to. We need to contain this virus somehow," Burke remarked. "The doctor tells me that even the smallest scratch can be deadly. Everyone who comes into direct contact with an infected person is in immediate danger."  
  
"It's a highly adaptive virus," Pulaski confirmed. "It's also very well developed."  
  
"Developed?" Picard echoed, not liking the sound of what he was hearing.  
  
"Yes, Captain. A virus like this can't develop naturally," Pulaski said. "Someone's been tinkering with nature - and the sooner we find out who, why and how, the better."

 

***********

 

Alex and everyone else in Eleven Forward looked up when the doors opened and three security officers came running through, one of them bleeding from a deep wound on her arm.  
  
"She's coming!" Lieutenant Lynch shouted.

"She bit Lieutenant Montgomery!" Ensign Rowe exclaimed. "She's right be-"  
  
In that moment a rather horrible-looking creature that barely resembled Lieutenant McNeill staggered into the bar. Her hair was hanging loose, her teeth were exposed along with half of her throat and she was chewing on something that looked a lot like a part of the flesh that belonged to Lieutenant Montgomery's arm.  
  
The customers jumped out of their seats, but, much to their credit, they all remained where they were, just like they had been trained to - a panic would help nobody.

Alex, who had been frozen in place behind his bar, suddenly felt himself snapping back to life. He had heard the reports, sure, but he had thought his bar to be safe – Eleven Forward was a designated shelter area, after all. And now that horrible-looking thing was standing right across his bar, and it would make up its mind any second now and attack whoever had the misfortune of being the closest source of flesh.  
  
' _If only I had a weapon that wasn't a phaser._ '

And then he remembered.  
  
He knelt down, quickly opened the lowest drawer behind the bar, pulled out Guinan's rifle and looked at one of its settings.  
  
 _'Yes, exactly what I thought.'_

He adjusted its settings and then stood up. "Franklin!"  
  
"What?" Lynch snapped, his eyes fixed on the hissing Lieutenant McNeill.  
  
"I got something here! Catch!"  
  
Alex threw the rifle over, Lynch caught it and looked at it. "What the hell is this?"  
  
"I don't know exactly - it belongs to Guinan! It's got an ICE setting! Try it!"  
  
Lynch shrugged, raised the rifle, aimed and pulled the trigger.

A blue beam struck McNeill and she froze – but not voluntarily: A thin layer of ice began to form around her until she was completely unable to move.  
  
"Computer!" Lynch barked. "Drop the temperature in Eleven Forward to minus 10 degrees celsius!"  
  
The computer acknowledged with a short chirp.  
  
Lynch took a deep breath before he slowly turned around in order to look at Lieutenant Montgomery on the floor. "How is she, Del?"  
  
Rowe, who had knelt down next to her, looked up. "Unconscious and still breathing, but I don't know for how long. The wound is quite severe."

"Get a medical team right away, along with security reinforcements for our icy guest," Lynch said and then looked at the still rather shocked customers. "Okay everyone, we'll do this by the book. I'll have to take y'all out of here and to the nearest shelter area where we will all be quarantined."  
  
"Quarantined?" one of the customers echoed.  
  
"Doctor's orders," Lynch explained and raised his hand. "Come on – or do you want to catch a cold on top of things?"


	5. Chapter 5

 

Picard walked into the Observation Lounge, took a quick look at his senior officers and then sat down at the head of the table. "Situation report."

"Everything is under control," Burke replied. "The incident in Eleven Forward seems to have been the only one. From what we can tell, Lieutenant McNeill walked out of Ensign Taylor's quarters and then directly down the corridor where she encountered the security team consisting of Lynch, Rowe and Montgomery. She bit Montgomery and then chased the three into Eleven Forward where they managed to contain her with Guinan's ice rifle."

Picard felt his stomach twist at the mention of the rifle - he knew who had thrown it over to Lynch _and_ who had been right in the middle of things, too. He had not been able to talk to his lover so far, there had been quite a few security protocols to follow and reports to read and orders to prepare, it would have been irresponsible to even leave his ready room in which he had been sitting with Commander Madden, and yet... all he had wanted to do - and _still_ wanted to do – was go down a few decks and make sure that the young bartender was alright.

Speaking of which... "What about the personnel that you evacuated from Eleven Forward after the incident? Any updates?"  
  
"They're all perfectly fine, no trace of the virus," Pulaski said. "I've lifted the quarantine but I _do_ want them to stay put for a few more hours, just in case. I'd rather be too careful about this than not careful enough."

"How are Lieutenants McNeill and Montgomery?"  
  
"I've put them in stasis, along with Ensign Taylor. However, I can't do much for them at this point and frankly, I doubt I will be able to any time soon - not without the specifications that were used for creating that virus. But I _have_ made a bit of progress as to how it managed to come aboard the Enterprise."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"As I suspected, it was Ensign Taylor. A friend of his told me that he had apparently injured his hand when he touched the teeth of one of the burned victims on the Grimes."

"Have you been able to determine why the biofilters didn't detect it?"  
  
"Yes - they're not programmed to."  
  
"Explain."  
  
Pulaski leaned back in her chair. "The virus basically looks like a blood cell - it's very good at disguising itself. Only a microscopic cellular scan can detect it, and even that only after the virus has activated itself into reproducing. That process can take a little while - which makes sense from a nasty point of view because the victim doesn't suspect an infection and unknowingly spreads the virus even further through saliva or sperm."

"But why did it affect Lieutenant McNeill so quickly then?" Burke asked. "From what security can tell, it took an entire night for Taylor."  
  
"Saliva contains a much larger quantity of the virus, and Taylor wasn't bitten," Pulaski answered. "He just scratched his hand a bit. It was a tiny flesh wound, and not much of the virus got through. That's why it took it quite some time to replicate itself in the necessary quantities. McNeill, on the other hand, received the full dosage, all in one bite, so to speak. As did Lieutenant Montgomery, by the way. I've managed to put her into stasis before the virus could take hold of her, but as soon as we wake her up, it most definitely will."

"What do we do now?" Madden asked. "We can't keep them in stasis forever."  
  
"Indeed not," Picard agreed and looked at LaForge. "Have you made any progress with the Grimes’ logs, Commander?"  
  
"Yes, sir." LaForge put a PADD on the table. "We managed to dig out the information only a few minutes ago. Apparently, shortly before all hell broke loose, the Grimes had responded to a distress call from a human colony at the very edge of Federation space. We can't make out much else, but it seems the crew was rather shaken by the whole thing. Colony must've been, and I quote, 'a mess'."  
  
"What colony?"  
  
"Beriat IV."  
  
Picard tapped his communicator. "Picard to bridge."  
  
" _Bridge here, sir._ "  
  
"Set course for the Beriat system, warp nine."  
  
" _Aye, sir._ "

 

**********

 

Picard walked into Deck 11's largest lounge and looked around. There were quite a few biobeds with patients and a lot of medical technicians were walking around between them, but no one seemed overly rushed, nervous or stressed.  
  
A very young female Bajoran nurse suddenly appeared next to him. "Captain? What can I do for you?"  
  
He looked down at her. "I assume the situation is under control here?"  
  
"Yes sir," she beamed. "No infections of any kind. Dr. Pulaski has lifted the quarantine and we're almost on our way out. The patients will be released in an hour."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," Picard replied and then looked around again. "I... erm... am looking for..."  
  
"He's on the first biobed to the left," the nurse interrupted, an even broader smile on her face.  
  
"Thank you," Picard said stiffly and then quickly walked away, somewhat embarrassed that even the nurses seemed to know.

' _There's nothing to be ashamed of_ ,' he reminded himself. ' _This is my crew, and my crew is my family, and my family deserves to know when I'm in love_.'  
  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost bumped into the frame of the biobed in front of which he suddenly found himself and on which Alex was lying, arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed.

Picard cleared his throat. "Alexander…?"  
  
The young man quickly opened his eyes and sat up. "Captain...?!"  
  
Picard smiled inwardly at his lover's formal greeting – they weren't alone, after all.  
  
"Hello," he said, a bit sheepishly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little shaken. I mean Guinan _did_ tell me that the unknown would find its way into Eleven Forward - but I didn't think she'd mean it so... well, _literally_."  
  
"Given what I know of her, she probably did," Picard remarked.  
  
"We all have to thank her when she gets back from her vacation. If it hadn't been for that rifle of hers..."  
  
" _You_ deserve some of the credit as well," Picard insisted. "You remembered that it was there."

Alex harrumphed. "I should've grabbed the damn thing and shot McNeill myself instead of throwing it over to Lynch like some sort of stupid coward."  
  
"You're not a Starfleet officer," Picard said. "There's no need for you to be ashamed of anything. Remember, your actions were exactly the ones we train the few civilians aboard starships these days to take – hand unfamiliar weapons over to an officer if one is at hand. Your reaction was correct. No need to question it."  
  
"But -"  
  
"No." Picard put his hand on Alex' shoulder and gently pushed him back onto the biobed. "I want you to get some more rest now. You've had your first encounter with the unknown today, and I know how overwhelming this can be, especially for civilians who have never served aboard a starship before."  
  
"Is that the captain speaking or Jean-Luc?" Alex asked in a very low voice.  
  
Picard briefly squeezed his lover's hand. "Both of us. And now I have to go, there's an entire pile of PADDs waiting for me on my ready room desk."  
  
Alex nodded. "Sure. I understand."  
  
"I knew you would," Picard smiled and then turned in order to leave.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
Picard stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm glad you came."


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you think it is that we're going to find down there?" Burke asked and looked at the Argo's current external sensor readings. "These readings are still the same useless pieces of nothing that we got on the Enterprise."  
  
"I don't think we'll be finding anything pleasant," Pulaski said and sighed deeply. "Sensors show no life forms, and the Beriat IV colony has a population of 3,000 humans."  
  
"You mean there could be 3,000 _zombies_ down there now," Burke concluded.

"We don't know that for certain," Mordock quipped.  
  
"No, but let's assume that I'm right - what are we supposed to do? I've already lost three good security people to this whole thing, I'm not going to risk any –"

"Calm down," Pulaski interrupted. "The captain's orders are to simply make an assessment of the current situation, nothing more."  
  
"Sorry." Burke typed a few more commands into his console. "We're directly above the colony. I'm taking us down."  
  
In that moment the thick clouds that had covered the windows vanished and gave way to the sight of quite a few impressive-looking buildings.  
  
Unfortunately, _buildings_ weren't the only impressive thing: A large, living mass of gray faces, bloody mouths and rotten clothes greeted the Argo shuttle as it hovered directly above the main street. The zombies looked up and raised their arms, eager to catch whatever it was that had suddenly appeared in the sky.

"My God," Pulaski whispered hoarsely.

Suddenly, a button flashed on Mordock's console and the Benzite felt his Starfleet training kicking in despite the horrors that he was witnessing. "Erm... the... the sensors are registering something. Energy readings, originating from a large building a few kilometers from here."  
  
"Any guess to what the readings could mean?" Burke asked tonelessly, his eyes fixed on the gray mass below them.  
  
"They look like as if they're caused by a force field of some kind," Mordock replied. "I can't say for certain, however – the readings are too erratic."  
  
"Why didn't the Enterprise detect anything?" Pulaski asked.  
  
Burke glanced at the readings as well. "Low-frequency scrambling signal. Undetectable from orbit."  
  
"We should perhaps investigate," Mordock suggested - the mere thought of having to go back to the Enterprise with only half of the available information was against everything his Benzite heritage stood for.  
  
"Yes, but only from up here," Burke decided. "The captain's orders were clear: If there's _any_ indication of trouble we are _not_ to set foot on the planet. Still - let's see what these readings are all about."

**********

 

"A research facility?" Picard looked at the three officers in front of his ready room desk. "Are you certain?"  
  
"Yes, sir. No doubt whatsoever," Mordock replied. "I was able to penetrate its protective energy shield with the shuttle's sensors for a short moment. I detected a large array of computers and labs along with bits and pieces of personal logs – it seems the facility was built to do research concerning the effects of outside influences on human genetics. However, there were no life signs."  
  
"This is exactly what I've been looking for," Pulaski said excitedly. "I have to go down there and collect all their data. Who knows, they might have a cure already."

Picard frowned. "Doctor, Commander Mordock just said that there were no life form readings. Which means there's no one alive down there – at least not in the conventional sense."  
  
"We didn't see any zombies near the facility," Pulaski objected. "It's safe to go down there."  
  
"Are you certain of that? After all, we can't detect these... _beings_ with our sensors."  
  
"I agree with the captain," Burke chimed in. "They might be waiting for you inside the facility. And what then?"  
  
"I could take a security team with me. They could equip themselves with ice rifles."  
  
Burke shook his head. "Ice won't stop this many of them, and definitely not for long. It's too warm down there. The only thing we could take would be phaser rifles set to vaporize anything they hit. We obviously couldn't use those on our crewmembers, but the folks down there are probably beyond any help any–"

"Out of the question," Picard interrupted sternly. "That would be mass murder."  
  
Burke looked at him, a puzzled look on his face. "But Captain -"  
  
"I might still be able to help them," Pulaski pressed. "I just need the data and a place to record my findings and prepare the cure. If there _is_ one, of course."  
  
Picard slowly put his hands on his desk. "I understand everyone's concerns here, but it all comes down to one equation - I have to weigh the good of the ship and its crew against the well-being of three people in stasis and a seemingly lost colony."  
  
"Captain, are you saying that these three officers and all those people down there aren't worth being saved?” Pulaski exclaimed.  
  
"I'm not saying that at all, Doctor. I'm merely looking at the bigger picture. Putting even more members of the crew at risk on the planet and inviting further contamination of the Enterprise by allowing you to experiment with a highly contagious virus – these are actions I am _not_ prepared to take, no matter what."  
  
Pulaski glared at him. "You can't condemn all these people to their fate either - and the same goes for your three officers! I refuse to abandon my patients!”  
  
"And _I_ refuse to endanger the Enterprise!" Picard snapped.  
  
Pulaski took a deep breath and clenched her hands into fists. "Alright, we'll have it _your_ way." She looked at Mordock. "Commander, is there any way to permanently disable that energy shield that surrounds the facility?"  
  
"There might be. I would have to speak to Commander LaForge about it, but I think we could manage it."  
  
"Let's assume that you can," Pulaski said and looked back at Picard. "I'll take the Argo. Alone. I'll hover above the facility, establish a link to their computer system and then I'll analyze the data. After that I'll study it, take it apart piece by piece and see what I can do about finding a cure. All that will take place aboard the Argo. No risk of any kind of contamination of the Enterprise. And it will be just me. You will not have to risk _anyone_ else."  
  
"Doctor, we had a similar discussion like this one many years ago," Picard remarked. "I almost lost you back then."  
  
"This case is different, Captain. And I promise you that I will not endanger myself needlessly. I learned my lesson the hard way on Gagarin IV."  
  
Picard sighed inwardly - he had run into Pulaski's stubborn side on more than one occasion in his life, but this time she seemed more determined than ever. And... she _was_ a specialist in genetics, he could hardly afford _not_ to use her expertise in this case.  
  
He leaned back and slowly tugged his uniform jacket into place. "Very well, Doctor, you may proceed - but only if Commanders LaForge and Mordock can come up with a way of disabling that energy field. You will _not_ go into that research facility, no matter what – is that understood?"  
  
Pulaski nodded. "Perfectly, Captain. Thank you."

 

**********

 

"Jean-Luc?"  
  
Picard looked at his lover on the bed. "Yes?"  
  
"Your pacing is driving me crazy."  
  
"Sorry." Picard sat down on the bed and rubbed his forehead. "It's been almost five hours now."  
  
"You said the same thing ten minutes ago." Alex sat up in his bed – he had been allowed to return to his quarters a few hours ago, but not without explicit orders to get some rest. "Don't worry. If there's any doctor in Starfleet who'll be able to figure out this virus, it's Katherine Pulaski."  
  
"That is not in dispute. I trust her abilities – completely, in fact. I simply remember what happened the last time I sent her on her merry way in a shuttlecraft to do this kind of thing."  
  
"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"  
  
"She is my chief medical officer."  
  
"And your friend."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
Alex grinned. "I've heard all about how things were with the two of you on the Enterprise-D."  
  
"We... occasionally disagreed," Picard admitted.  
  
"Knowing your gift for understatement, this probably means that you were constantly at each other's throats."  
  
"Possibly."  
  
"No. _Definitely_." Alex slowly began to get up.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" Picard demanded.  
  
"I need to walk around a bit."  
  
"You have been ordered to rest – and you were given a very mild sedative an hour ago."  
  
"How do _you_ know about that?"  
  
Picard simply looked at him.  
  
"Alright, alright, I get it, you're the captain, you know everything." Alex slowly began to walk away from the bed. "Really, though, I'm kinda tired of just lying there and – whoa, is there something wrong with the artificial gravity?"

Picard jumped up from the bed, rushed towards his lover and grabbed him before he could fall. "Alexander? Are you alright?"  
  
The bartender harrumphed. "Yeah. I'm okay. I'm just feeling a little dizzy. Stupid sedative."  
  
"This natural civilian tendency to disobey orders is a factor of constant irritation," Picard remarked grumpily and began to slowly (but firmly) pull Alex back to the bed.  
  
"You don't have to make it sound so Vulcan."  
  
Picard smiled inwardly but did not say anything until Alex was lying on his bed again, resting comfortably between his large black pillows. "Do you need anything?"  
  
"No." Alex closed his eyes. "I'm just so tired all of a sudden..."  
  
"Then you should sleep."  
  
"But I want to know how Kate's doing... she's my friend, too...”  
  
"I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Would that be alright?"  
  
"Yeah... that will... be..."  
  
Picard smiled broadly when he realized what had happened – the bartender had fallen asleep right in the middle of the sentence. He walked up to the closet, got out a blanket, unfolded it and covered the young man's legs with it.  
  
"Sleep well," he whispered, gently touched Alex' cheek for a brief moment and then walked out of his lover's quarters.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

The members of the senior staff looked rather uncomfortable - which was understandable, given the fact that they were all standing around a biobed in sickbay on which the unconscious 'person' that had once been Ensign Giles Taylor was lying.  
  
"Doctor, is this really necessary?" Picard asked nervously.  
  
"It is," Pulaski replied calmly. "It's the easiest way of telling you what I found out." She looked at Taylor. "Ensign Taylor here was our patient zero, infected by touching the teeth of a deceased victim. After that, he went on to bite Lieutenant McNeill over there." She pointed at a second biobed nearby where an equally unconscious McNeill was lying. "And McNeill then bit Lieutenant Montgomery over there." She pointed at a third biobed.  
  
"Same horrible results," Madden observed.  
  
Pulaski raised her index finger. "Not quite. The virus has affected all three of them in different ways." She walked over to a small cabinet and took a hypospray from it. "The key to all of this is that Ensign Taylor's blood doesn't have the same amount of the virus in it as Lieutenant McNeill's."

"What difference does it make? In the end, they're both zombies," Burke said matter-of-factly.  
  
"It makes a difference for the cure," Pulaski replied, walked back to Taylor and injected the hypospray into his neck. "Look."  
  
The zombie opened his eyes and everyone stepped back quickly – but Taylor did not seem to even notice the officers; he simply stared at the ceiling while moving his head rapidly.  
  
And then, suddenly, he simply went limp.  
  
"What happened?" Picard asked.

"The serum I developed is destroying the virus in his blood," Pulaski explained.  
  
In that moment, Taylor's skin color began to change.  
  
"He's getting back to normal!" Mordock exclaimed.  
  
"Almost." Pulaski walked back to the cabinet and then came back with another hypospray. "He's only returning from undead to dead."  
  
"Are you saying he's dead now?" Picard asked.  
  
"Yes." Pulaski injected the second hypospray. "But I _can_ revive him."  
  
In that moment, Taylor began to move; and when he opened his eyes they were brown again.  
  
"What... what... happened...?" he croaked.  
  
"You're in sickbay Ensign," Pulaski replied gently. "You went through an extensive trauma. I'm going to give you a sedative now that will help your body adjust during sleep. Alright?"  
  
The young man nodded weakly, Pulaski grabbed another hypo and pressed it against his neck. He went limb again almost immediately - but this time he was breathing normally.

The CMO glanced at Lieutenant Montgomery. "I was able to help her with a similar serum, which I injected shortly before you all came in here. The virus is gone from her system as well – before it could take hold of her. Both she and Ensign Taylor are going to make a full recovery. Now... those were the good news." She slowly walked over to McNeill. "The bad news is that this won't work for her."  
  
"Why not?" Madden asked.  
  
"For one thing, there is a lot more of the virus in her bloodstream. She was bitten _and_ the virus was allowed to take hold, which, unfortunately, is the worst case scenario." She put away the hyposprays. "I could adjust the dosage of the serum, of course - which, unfortunately, would kill her."  
  
"But you just cured Taylor and Montgomery with it," Picard remarked.

"They didn't need as much of the serum as McNeill would need. I _would_ be able to purge the virus from her body - but she would be dead after that. I couldn't revive her. The serum not only kills the virus - it also kills all the cells that are affected by it. The reviving part of the serum can only re-build so many cells before the body shuts down completely. It simply isn't fast enough."  
  
"Are you saying that all you can do is kill her?" Burke blurted out.  
  
"I can release her from the existence as a zombie, yes, but I can't bring her back to life after that."  
  
"What about the people on the planet?" Picard asked. "If I understood correctly you will be able to cure those who weren't bitten...?"

"Unfortunately not, no," Pulaski answered sadly. “There is another factor to be dealt with: Time. The longer this virus exists in a body, the more damage it does to it. Ensign Taylor is already going to need some reconstructive surgery for his hand and arm – and it's only been a few days since he was infected. For those on the planet it has been at least two months. Even if I could find those who weren't infected by a bite, I would no longer be able to revive them because the level of decay in their brains is too great by now. They're beyond help. This virus really is one of the nastiest little pieces of genetic engineering I've ever come across."  
  
"So you're certain now that it has been artificially created?" Madden asked.  
  
"Yes. The lab's database was a fountain of information."  
  
"Didn't they have some idea for a cure?" Picard pressed. "They created this virus, after all."  
  
Pulaski shook her head. "No. They stumbled over the virus by accident - it was a mutation that was never supposed to happen. It infected three of the scientists and then things quickly went to hell, especially since they had no weapons there. They were barely able to send out a distress call."  
  
"Which the Grimes picked up and went to investigate," LaForge concluded.  
  
"Captain," Burke chimed in, "we need to make sure that this virus won't spread."  
  
Picard nodded slowly. "We will have a meeting tomorrow morning at 0900 to discuss our next course of action. Doctor, please keep Lieutenant McNeill in stasis until then." He looked at his officers. "Dismissed."

 

***********

 

"Have you decided yet on what to do now?" Alex asked and took another sip of mint tea.  
  
Picard sighed deeply, put his empty cup on the table in front of him and then leaned back on the couch. "Not really. Everything in me tells me that what I'm about to do is mass murder. There are almost 3,000 colonists down there."  
  
"Kate says there's no way of helping them."  
  
"Yes, but they' re human. It's... it's... unthinkable. I simply can't find it within myself to view them as soulless beings. What if there is still some humanity left inside them? What if they can fight their way out of it?"  
  
"I doubt that. They've been infected by a virus that killed them and then brought them back to life - _without_ a mind of their own."  
  
"You don't know that for certain," Picard said gruffly, stood up and began to pace.  
  
Alex frowned – it was not like his lover to act in this manner. "I spoke to Kate earlier, and she said she explored every possibility. There's simply no way of helping them. And besides, the method that will be used will be painless to them – the gaseous serum will render them unconscious and then the virus will be purged from their bodies. They will be given a dignified death."  
  
"We can't just abandon them," Picard insisted. "I refuse to do that as long as there is even the slightest hope of getting them out of this... this... _state_ they're in."

"It's not a state they're in. It's nothing temporary - it's _final_."  
  
"What do _you_ know about these things? What do _you_ know about what it is like to be a prisoner of your own mind, forced to watch yourself do things you don't want to do?"  
  
Alex slowly stood up from the couch and walked up to Picard, who was still pacing back and forth. "Jean-Luc? Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," Picard snapped. "In fact, I’m beginning to think I'm the only one aboard this ship who still is!"  
  
"Come on now," Alex said softly. "Everyone is horrified - but they all agree that this virus must not spread and that the people down on the planet deserve to be laid to rest."  
  
Picard clenched his hands into fists. "We're killing them!"  
  
“They're already dead!"  
  
"You don't know that!"  
  
Alex sighed. "We're moving in circles."  
  
" _I'm_ not the one to blame for that," Picard spat. " _You_ cannot grasp what these people are going through. You've never been..." He broke off.  
  
"I've never been what?" Alex asked gently - the slight crack in his lover's voice had not escaped him.  
  
"It doesn't matter." Picard turned away. "I would prefer it if you leave now."  
  
"You can't dismiss me. I'm not one of your officers."  
  
"But I _can_ ask you to leave."  
  
"Then look at me and do so."  
  
Picard said nothing and remained where he was, with his back turned towards his lover, his fists trembling.  
  
Alex slowly put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "It's the Borg, isn't it?"

"What about them?" Picard whispered tonelessly.  
  
"You think these colonists are like the Borg. Mindless drones - dead, but still alive inside somehow. You think their minds are like yours was back then; trapped behind a mental shield, forced to watch what the body it belongs to is doing, silently screaming for help."  
  
"Stop it," Picard hissed, shrugged Alex' hand off and walked towards the window.  
  
"This situation is different, Jean-Luc. These people down there are dead, outside _and_ inside."  
  
Picard stared out of the window. By now his entire body was shaking, which only made him even more furious – he was supposed to be in control of himself!  
  
"Trust me, if there was any other way, Kate would have found it – and if these zombies were still alive in a way or aware of who or what they were before, she would never have authorized such a drastic course of action because it goes against her very being as a medical doctor.  You _have_ to trust her on this one, and you normally would, but right now your judgment is clouded because of the Borg, and –"  
  
"My judgment is none of your concern!" Picard barked, turned around and glared at the young man. "You're right, you know - you're not an officer on this ship. You have _no_ authority _whatsoever_ and I would appreciate it if you didn't assume it by trying to tell me that I'm unfit for command!"  
  
"I'm not saying you're unfit for command. All I'm saying is that you're biased because of what the Borg -"  
  
"Don't you _ever_ say that name again!" Picard roared. "And now get out! I don't have time for this foolishness!"  
  
"This isn't foolishness!" Alex retorted. "I'm trying to get through to you here – you mustn't allow for this virus to spread and you owe it to these colonists down there to give them a dignified death and you can't see _any_ of that because you're making a completely illogical comparison!"  
  
"There's nothing illogical about it!" Picard screamed, reached out and grabbed Alex by the collar. "Nothing, do you hear me?!"  
  
"Is that why you're about to throttle me?" Alex asked calmly. "Are you going to punch me as well while you're at it?"  
  
Picard tensed – and then he let go, a look of complete and utter horror on his face. "I… I'm sorry, Alexander... I... I don't know what got into me, I..."  
  
Alex quickly took his lover's hands into his. "It's okay. I'd gladly have taken a punch from you if it had meant that you were finally going to listen to reason."

"It's not 'okay'. I was just so... so... angry."

"I was actually _counting_ on your anger," Alex admitted. "Because I knew you'd realize at some point that it was completely irrational. And I also know that the Borg are a very, very touchy subject to bring up. Understandably so. Really, it _is_ okay. Besides, you have more important issues to think about. The colonists, for example."  
  
Picard bit his lower lip. "At this point I...  I... don't know _what_ to think anymore... there... there is a very vulnerable part of me that is insisting that what I'm going to do is mass murder. And yet this... other, more rational part tells me that I need to look at this from an impassionate viewpoint and take the appropriate action." He looked up and straight into Alex' eyes. "How does one look at killing 3,000 people from an impassionate viewpoint?"  
  
"If someone could do that, they wouldn't be in a position to make such a decision in the first place." Alex gently squeezed Picard's hands. "You'll do the right thing, Jean-Luc. I know that."

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Alex put two cups of tea on the bar in front of Picard. "Here you go."  
  
The captain flashed his lover a slight smile. "Thank you." He took the cups and then walked to a corner table at which his 'appointment' was already waiting for him.  
  
"Ah, the sweet smell of Klingon tea," Pulaski remarked while Picard put down the cups and then sat down on the opposite chair. "I'm so glad Worf introduced me to it on the Enterprise-D. Have you ever tried it?"  
  
"I prefer beverages that do _not_ require an antidote beforehand."  
  
"No risk, no fun," Pulaski said, took a sip of tea and then leaned back in her chair. "So, what is it that you want to talk to me about?"  
  
Picard took a sip from his Earl Grey. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You want to talk about our last mission."  
  
"Yes. I still haven't come to terms with it. All those colonists..."  
  
"You did what you had to do - and I authorized it. Believe me, it wasn't easy for _me_ either."  
  
"That's why I wanted to talk to you about it. You're the only one on board who was directly involved in my decision." Picard sighed softly. "I've had to give painful orders before, but never one like this."

"We could not have helped the colonists in any way," Pulaski said gently. "Doctors can do many things these days, but, in the end, we generally cannot resurrect the dead."  
  
"You mean resurrect the dead from being _living_ dead."

"If you want to put it like that... yes."  
  
Picard took another sip of tea. "If only we had come sooner..."

"I'm not sure this would have made things easier to deal with. Imagine I could have saved some of the colonists - _you_ would have had to explain to them why I could save _them_ but not their families or their friends."  
  
Picard winced. "Horrifying..."  
  
Pulaski put her hand on his arm. "You mustn't torture yourself over this, Captain. What's done is done, and Starfleet has closed the issue."  
  
" _I_ can't just close the issue."  
  
"Neither can I, at least not right now. I think we all need time to come to terms with what happened." She smiled mischievously. "And... _you_ have someone who can help you with that."  
  
"Doctor, please."

She raised her hands. "I know, I know - you don't care to discuss these aspects of your personal life. Still, speaking strictly as your CMO I fully approve of you having someone to... umm... _help_ you."  
  
Picard glared at her. "Thank you for your unnecessary input."  
  
"You're absolutely welcome."

 


End file.
